A/N: This chapter was getting pretty long so I decided to split it to avoid an even longer wait for you guys. Also both halves get a little introspective-y, so you might well appreciate the breathing space between them!

Oh and this was edited and uploaded on holiday, on my iPad, so sorry if there are more mistakes than usual!

It was Thursday morning, five days since the Doctor had arrived, three and a half since they'd retrieved Gwen from cryo and discovered her altered condition, and at Owen's request, or more specifically demand, everyone had gathered in the boardroom for an urgent meeting. He and Rhys were the last to arrive and the others abandoned their exchange of concerned glances to look up at them, seeking the reason for the meeting upon their faces.

Ianto frowned as he recognised the deep worry in their features, heart sinking at the notion of yet another problem disrupting their attempts to help Gwen. Everyone had been working through the night on the virus, or at least on helping those working on the virus - Rhys keeping a dutiful eye on Gwen and Ianto running interference to stop Jack from pestering the others too frequently - and the last thing they needed was to hear more bad news.

Rhys pulled out the nearest chair and collapsed into it whilst Owen's dark eyes quickly counted heads to make sure everyone was there. "Okay," he declared, striding across the room. "We've got to get moving on this." The controls for the large wall-mounted screen were at the end of the long table and he thumped hard at the keys, bringing up a still image of Gwen. It had been taken from one of the cameras dotted around the cells, so it was looking down at her from a high corner, but the subject was still clear despite the odd angle.

"This is an hour ago," he explained, hitting another button and setting the video playing.

On the screen Gwen started prowling, the same path she'd been following all day since waking in confinement.

"What are we looking for?" Jack asked from Ianto's side, but the young man immediately noticed the difference from the last time he'd seen her. The speed of her pacing was getting slower, her movements becoming sluggish. It was hardly a surprise considering her wound and the constant restless movement, and yet clearly there was something else coming, if the tension radiating from Rhys was anything to go by.

"Wait a minute," the medic said, his eyes fixed on the screen.

They waited and watched and when Gwen's steps faltered and she dropped to one knee they collectively took a sharp intake of breath. Through the clear wall at the side of the screen they could see Rhys jumping from his chair and moving to the invisible barrier.

"What happened?" Jack demanded, looking at first to Owen then Rhys.

"She just collapsed," Rhys replied with a tired shrug. He looked terrible, Ianto noted, even though they'd been forcing him to eat and sleep at regular intervals. Anxiety had painted dark shadows around his eyes and he slumped low in his seat, entirely devoid of energy, as though he'd begun grieving for his fiancée all over again.

"Keep watching," Owen told them and everyone swung their attention back to the screen.

Gwen's hands were flat upon the clear wall as she pulled herself back to her feet, stumbling a little, but eventually getting there. She began pacing again almost immediately, whilst video-Rhys stood motionless outside her cell, the distress on his face clear as day.

"She gives it a good go," Owen narrated, as Gwen lurched from side to side, her motions jerky and unnatural. A few moments later she just about threw herself at the low shelf that served as the cell's bed and dropped onto the pile of blankets she'd been wrapped in when moved down there. A hand went to her chest and she seemed to be struggling to breathe.

No one could speak, merely watch as the silent recording showed Gwen gasping for air. With her skin now grey, it was hard to see her expression on the screen, but her actions spoke loudly enough, especially the clawed hands that tore at her medical gown.

"I'm on my way down there by this point," Owen murmured, perhaps feeling the need to reassure them. Then added, "This is where she starts coughing."

Right on cue, Gwen's mouth opened and her head dropped forward, her back hunching and starting to shake so violently it looked like she could be having a fit.

"It won't be obvious on here, but there's blood in her phlegm."

Jack looked sharply away from the convulsing woman. "Blood?" he repeated.

Owen's gaze never left the screen. "Yep," he confirmed bluntly . "Okay, I'm there now." Sure enough Owen had materialised at Rhys' side and both of them were peering into the cell. Their lips moved and brows furrowed and then Owen was off again out of shot. "I'm activating the airborne sedative in her cell, but watch..."

The shudders of Gwen's back had slowed into the undulation of deep breathing and all of a sudden she pushed herself upright to once again resume her pacing. She was still slow, but there was no other sign of her being troubled by the episode that had just occurred.

Owen stopped the playback and turned to face the room. "The sedatives started to work shortly after that and she made it back to the bed before passing out," he told them. "I went in there to examine her and whilst her breathing is somewhat laboured, she's still getting enough oxygen for the time being. Internally is another matter; there's a rattle on her lungs and obviously the blood she coughed up is a sign of trouble too. Her heart rate and blood pressure are both way above where I'd like them to be. There's more, and I'm still running tests now, but it boils down to the fact her internal organs are really starting to struggle."

"Like when she first caught the virus?" Ianto asked, grimly recalling the image of Gwen upon her sickbed, her skin bubbling with sores and her life fading away before their eyes.

The very reason they'd put her into cryo was because of similar internal problems and they hadn't wanted her body to give out entirely before they could find a cure. Even though the virus had continued developing despite the freezing process, those issues had been resolved, the alterations to her DNA somehow meaning her body had stopped failing as well. They had actually been relieved, after recovering from the shock of her grey scaly skin, that the virus had seemed to fix its host on its own.

Of course when she'd continued to change, that relief was soon replaced by concern once again.

"How could she have gotten better and then worse again?" he added.

"Considering everything else we've seen this virus do so far, I'm not surprised," Owen replied. "I couldn't say precisely why it's done this now, but I'd guess, though it made her strong for a while, her body just can't handle the extreme changes any more." He rubbed at his forehead, a leftover gesture from when he was still alive. "Sometimes," he began awkwardly, "when patients at the hospital were close to dying, they'd get a burst of energy beforehand."

At the opposite end of the table, Rhys inhaled audibly, his eyes slipping shut as he tried to control his reaction to Owen's words. Ianto felt his own chest tighten at the pain in the older Welshman's expression but he knew Rhys was not likely to accept any platitudes, so held his tongue.

"She was running around the city for most of a day," Jack pointed out. "That's more than just a burst of energy."

Owen shrugged. "It's the only explanation I've got right now. Besides, the why isn't important, not whilst Gwen's in danger. We have to give her the virus now."

"Is it ready?"

"Technically, yes."

The Captain squinted at him "But...?"

"But normally we'd put something like this through a shit-load of tests before actually exposing someone to it."

"And that would take time," Jack finished with a nod. "Well if she's deteriorating as quickly as it sounds then it's a risk we're going to have to take."

Ianto waited for a moment but it seemed no one else was going to ask the question that seemed quite vital to him. "Not to sound the pessimist," he said, "but without any testing, how can you be sure it's not going to, you know, kill her or anything."

Rhys sat up straight in his chair, eyes round and fearful. "Yes," he choked out. "What if it...does more damage?"

"Obviously they'll test that," Jack responded, before Owen could even open his mouth.

The medic gave him a bewildered look. "Eh? You just said-"

"On me," the immortal qualified.

Owen's expression became alarmed. "No, Jack, no way. We can't give you a virus like this."

"Why not? If I die from it, then better me than Gwen, and if it does what it's meant to..." He paused to grin around the table. "Well then maybe I'll let one of you have the pleasure of killing me."

Ianto was dumbstruck at the Captain's nonchalance; could he not see the problem here?

Fortunately Owen hadn't lost his tongue and he shook his head firmly. "No one's going to intentionally kill you, you idiot, and we're not infected you either."

"I have to agree with Dr. Harper," the Doctor put in. "We designed the virus for Gwen's current genetic makeup, there's no saying what it would do to anyone else."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Again, a risk we have to take."

"Think about it Jack," Ianto waded in. "If it worked, who's to say the changes to your DNA would be reset by death?"

The Captain hesitated, but his stubbornness soon got him talking again. "They wouldn't be big changes," he declared. "Doctor, you said the Mynars are descendants of a human colony? They differ more internally than externally, right?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then the odds are acceptable."

Ianto sighed with frustration, unable to tell if Jack was being obtuse on purpose or if he truly hadn't connected all the dots. "And what if it turned you into a monster?!" he demanded sharply. "What if it messed with your DNA so much that you became something awful? What if you lost everything that makes you you? And what if, even if you died and came back, you stayed that way forever?"

Jack looked rather taken aback by Ianto's tirade, even swallowing visibly at the last grim suggestion. He hadn't considered it then, or at least hadn't allowed himself to consider it, and Ianto's anger ebbed into urgency, desperate to make him understand. "God knows I don't want Gwen to die, especially not by some fault of our own, nor do I want you to die, permanently I mean. But more than that, the possibility that you could become some awful mindless beast that could never die..." he shuddered, unable to go on as his imagination threw up images of Jack, or whatever remained of him at least, being either contained for the rest of his eternal life or else running wild, out of control and likely to harm any unfortunate souls who got in his way.

The sound of Jack's chair scraping along the floor reverberated loudly around the hushed room as he stood and turned his back on everyone there.

"You know he's right," the Doctor said solemnly. "You're an unknown entity in the universe, remember? There's no way to be sure what any kind of virus would do to you, especially one as devastating as this."

"And Gwen wouldn't allow it," Rhys announced. Ianto glanced across and found the other man leaning forward, his gaze locked on the Captain's back. "Bloody hell, think how she'd react if she found out you'd risked that for her! She's got more than enough reasons to feeling guilty already after killing you, killing that poor woman and hurting all those others. Do you really think she should have whatever might happen to you on her conscience as well?!"

"Do you want her death on yours?" Jack countered, though he didn't turn around.

"This isn't about me," Rhys said. He sounded pained by the truth in his own words, but he went on anyway. "It's about what Gwen would want."

Even from behind, Ianto could see the tension in Jack's shoulders, the strain of knowing he could do something but at the same time unable to deny it was an incredible gamble. He stood and approached the immortal, resisting the urge to rest a hand on the other's back. "Jack," he murmured. "Please."

At his side now, Ianto was able to see the helplessness on his lover's face and his initial hesitation to touch Jack in front of the others vanished. He lifted his hand to Jack's forearm, where it hung limply at his side, and traced the limb down, curling his fingers around the side of Jack's hand and squeezing. He wasn't about to entwine their fingers right there with everyone watching, but the rarity of such contact in the presence of others was enough to reveal his concern for his lover. Jack turned his head to the side, palm flexing as he squeezed back.

There was no need for any more debate, Jack's eyes told Ianto everything he needed to know. The older man wasn't happy about the situation, but then none of them were particularly ecstatic about giving Gwen an untested virus either. He hoped Jack could see that in his own eyes, that they weren't arguing for the sake of it, only because they cared for his safety.

The Captain's shoulders slumped in defeat but, as he twisted his fingers around Ianto's, he smiled ruefully and said, "Okay."

They had all gone down to Gwen's cell together, as quiet and somber as a funeral procession. She'd moved from the hard inbuilt bed into a far corner of the small room, taking the blankets with her so she was cocooned in a nest of her own making. What was visible of her grey face had been paler than before, and the suspicious dark eyes peering out from between the folds of blood-spotted material seemed large and piteous.

After flooding the cell once again with the unique sedative he, Tosh and the Doctor had adapted to affect only her, Owen had wasted no time in ushering Jack inside to see if her nodding head was a feint or not. There had been a weak swipe of one thin scaly arm, but the dark claws got nowhere near to the immortal before the limb dropped heavily onto the pile of blankets once again.

Reassured, Owen had followed him in and injected her with the virus right there and then, saying he wanted to get everything rolling as soon as possible. They'd then all worked together to move her carefully up to the medical bay, where she now lay strapped to the metal table and connected to a circle of machines that beeped or flashed or sent a complex list of numbers to the screen at which Owen had spent most of the day staring.

Tosh had been the first to succumb to her fatigue, sleeping even as she stood leaning against one of the beeping machines. Jack had carried her to one of the Hub's overnight rooms where she'd stirred as he set her down on top of the covers. She started to mumble a protest, but had drifted off again without even finishing speaking. He'd covered her with the other half of the duvet and debated briefly the odds of getting her to agree to taking a holiday after all this was over. She might not have suffered any injuries during the course of the past few days, but she'd certainly worked hard enough to deserve a good rest. One spent away from the Hub and any dangerous occupants it might currently be housing.

Rhys had sat himself on the tiled steps after being banished from Gwen's side by Owen for getting underfoot. He'd begun simply staring at his love, occasionally asking what a certain machine was for or why Owen was doing whatever he was doing, but soon he'd begun to doze against the cold upright bars of the handrail beside him. Ianto had gently shaken him awake to suggest he lie down somewhere more comfortable, only to be threatened with bodily harm if he tried to make the older man move. Faintly amused, Ianto hadn't pushed the matter, but he had fetched a clean blanket to wrap around Rhys as a compromise and shortly after that, soft snores could be heard coming from the bundle on the steps.

Assured by Owen that they could do nothing but wait, Jack and Ianto had retreated to the old sofa above, where they'd sat together in silence, shoulders and thighs touching, until Ianto's head began to loll. Jack had swallowed a laugh and wrapped an arm around his lover, pulling him against his side, and now the young man was sleeping soundly, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts.

Hours had passed since they'd exposed Gwen to the new virus, though Jack couldn't say how many at that point. He could hear Owen moving around down behind him, but the medic had orders to report the minute anything changed so he knew there was no need to check up on Gwen's condition yet. Instead his thoughts drifted to the Doctor, who had disappeared early on in their vigil, heading back to whatever kept tempting him away from everyone else. Jack suspected he was nosing through the archives, examining the eclectic mix of artifacts Torchwood had acquired over the years or perhaps reading over private records on the mainframe he would undoubtedly be able to unlock with ease.

The Captain smiled to himself, remembering his journeys in the TARDIS and the thrill the Time Lord displayed for new discoveries and unexpected twists of fate. It had started off as a complicated companionship, Jack originally hoping only to get back his stolen memories through whatever means necessary, but as he'd relented and fallen beneath the Doctor's spell, he'd come to realise he shared the alien's love for exploration.

Travelling with the Doctor had drawn him out from the shadow of his work as a Time Agent, a shadow which had been all-consuming. He'd come to enjoy helping those in need, and the Doctor's often intuitive methods were a distinct change from following every order the Agency gave him without question. Even when he'd been touched by the Vortex and denied his death, that enjoyment hadn't dissipated. He'd been given an ability he hadn't asked for, but after the initial surprise and anger had melted away, he'd realised it could be used for great things, things that could possibly cleanse his soul of all his past mistakes.

Part of him yearned to travel with the Doctor again, though he wasn't confident of being granted that boon, considering the faint unease that continued to trouble the Time Lord whenever Jack was nearby. It was a fantasy he couldn't help considering every now and then, but he was always brought back down to Earth by thoughts of everything he was responsible for at Torchwood. The Rift, most definitely, but also the people who had become so entwined with it that they would likely struggle to do any other kind of work for the rest of their lives.

Jack sighed quietly, thinking of Owen's death and Gwen's illness. He was lucky to have such strong, loyal individuals helping him guard the Rift, but the guilt of their suffering was proving a heavy weight to bear. He hadn't realised the implications of taking command of Three, (though in retrospect, the way Alex had dealt with the new Millennium should perhaps have tipped him off) but there wasn't much he could do about it now. The others would never accept being sent away for their own safety and the thought of being left alone in the Hub again wasn't particularly appealing to Jack either.

As though disturbed by his gloomy thoughts, Ianto stirred and shifted closer to Jack, slipping an arm across his stomach in a loose embrace. The Captain smiled and gently rubbed the younger man's back, grateful for the reassuring warmth of a living body against his own. More than that, he was grateful Ianto was slowly coming around to the idea of being more public with certain affectionate behaviour.

He knew Ianto didn't need hearts and flowers and pretty words to make him happy, but after all they'd explored concerning his submissive tendencies, it was clear he'd needed to be shown it was all right to relinquish control every now and then, in front of others as well as in the bedroom. For him to be wrapping himself around Jack now in such a trusting and relaxed manner where anyone could witness the tender display was a far cry from when they'd first started fooling around. He'd been almost obsessive back then, insisting that no one could find out about their 'fling' and making various trite comments about office politics. Even the fact they hardly worked in a normal office environment couldn't ease his paranoia about being discovered. Jack had thought it mere bashfulness that kept him so secretive, but now he knew better.

Ianto had needed to learn that putting his faith in another person wouldn't end in disaster and that the emotional release of trusting another implicitly was a wonderful thing indeed. Granted, Jack had realised that in one of the worst possible ways, but he'd been more than happy to try and help Ianto uncover the true driving force that had started him experimenting with masochism. Yes, he'd found he possessed his own little kink for domination, but more than that he'd been glad to be of assistance; especially if he looked back to when he had first known the young man.

At that time, Ianto had been hiding something that threatened not only countless lives, but also his own fragile heart. Because of Lisa, he had to be aware of everything around him, wary of any slip that could reveal his dangerous secret. The only reason he'd been able to keep her presence in the Hub concealed for so long was because of his strict self-control, and Jack suspected his resulting emotional numbness had stemmed from that. Losing Lisa the way he had, first at One, then slowly as her body gave out, and finally during the harrowing events following her escape, was more than anyone deserved to experience. It was no wonder that afterwards he'd continued to cling to his mask of deception, to pretend that everything was fine, whilst underneath he ached and started to fade away.

Jack could only feel immense relief for whatever had made Ianto dare the simple suggestive comment about stopwatches to him. Perhaps it had been second betrayal and death of Suzie, or the near-death of Gwen, but whatever had pushed Ianto to tentatively reach out by propositioning Jack had clearly been the start of his slow swing back up and away from the repression of his emotions. He could never be sure what might have become of Ianto had the darkness fully taken hold of him, but Jack could imagine he would be little more than a shell of the man he was now.

The thought chilled the Captain. A being as bright as Ianto should never have been allowed to dull so much, but more than that, somewhere in the past year or so, Jack had come to rely on him. He hadn't truly realised or admitted it to himself until the Welshman had started to withdraw into himself again after the incident with Lurrelia, but the connection had been there for a long time, right under his nose.

He wasn't sure how it had happened; in the past he had always been able to keep a certain distance between himself and his mortal lovers and friends. Even when he had fallen hopelessly in love with someone, his feelings had always been tainted with the promise of death and solitude and expectation of the loneliness that was to come.

With Ianto however, it seemed different. Partly because Jack hadn't fallen hopelessly in love with him, and partly because he was an exceptional man, the kind of which Jack had never met before.

Ianto was the first person who had actually come the closest to understanding Jack, to understanding the true gravity of his circumstances. Others had thought they had him figured out, proclaiming that they could imagine how he felt about his immortality, but they hadn't a clue between them. Ianto, however, didn't profess to truly understand, and by that simple fact he was the nearest to comprehension of the bunch.

Ianto had the uncanny knack of knowing what someone needed, often before that person knew themselves. It was the reason he was so good at the role he'd taken up at Torchwood Three; tending to the team even as he worked on his own projects and accompanied them into the field. He had picked up on Jack's needs just as easily, though they were different to those of most other people. He knew when Jack wanted to be left alone or distracted and he knew when Jack needed to be pushed or questioned or listened to. He also knew precisely what was required in each of those cases to satisfy him, doing his best to make sure those solutions were available to the Captain or finding a substitute that would suffice in the meantime if they weren't.

He understood Jack's tumultuous relationship with his immortality and his past, knew of the dark terrors that lingered in his memories and instead of trying to make him face those horrors, instead of trying to fix him, Ianto simply let him be himself.

He didn't try to change Jack, didn't try to force him to become something he could never be, like so many others had before. Previous lovers had believed their relationship with the unique Captain gave them a right to expect certain things of him, things that pained him to offer. They had not thoroughly considered what such pledges and sacrifices would do to someone who would perpetually outlive them.

Ianto didn't ask anything like that and Jack found it wonderfully refreshing. Ianto provided him with everything he needed and Jack had welcomed being looked after, not realising at the time that in relying on Ianto even in such an innocent way, he was setting himself up for just as hard a fall as when he committed himself to one lover for their lifetime. It would be worse as well, because where he had always kept a part of himself hidden from those lovers, Ianto could already see through him into that secret box locked away deep in his heart.

And yet despite all that, despite the fact it terrified Jack to realise he was so completely exposed to the young man, he couldn't bring himself to pull away from him, even to protect his fractured soul. It wasn't even a notion he could entertain for long before deeming it utterly and completely impossible.

Jack smiled wryly down at the dark head resting on his shoulder. Perhaps he had fallen just a little in love with Ianto after all.

Ianto slipped back into consciousness slowly, his mind awakening with reluctance. He was warm and comfortable and the pillow around which he was wrapped rose and fell in a relaxing rhythm. He smiled into the soft material beneath his face, inhaling the clean musk he knew well and wishing his thoughts could stop there, before they reminded him of all the reasons why he shouldn't be lazing about.

There was an arm looped around his back, a strong hand resting on his side, and fingers had begun stroking lightly up and down, telling him his pillow was aware of his gradual awakening. He squeezed his own hand, where it curled over the other man's hip, and tilted his head back.

"Morning," Jack murmured and Ianto blinked dozily at him.

"It's morning?" he asked, trying to remember precisely when he'd fallen asleep.

"No, but greeting you with 'afternoon' felt odd."

Ianto gave a snort of amusement and pulled away a little before the awkward angle could start to trouble his neck.

"Sleep well?" Jack's voice was low, keeping the conversation between just the two of them, though Ianto couldn't see anybody else nearby.

"I don't think I'll sleep well until all this is sorted," Ianto replied, instinctively matching his lover's tone. "Then of course the next threat against the world will turn up and it'll start all over again."

"Pessimist," Jack accused, though he said it with fondness. He leaned forward to press his lips against Ianto's temple and Ianto's eyes slid shut again, head falling back as he sought the other's mouth in response.

The sound of footsteps interrupted his quest and he reluctantly sat up, disentangling himself from his lover. Jack gave a rueful smile and lifted his arm to the back of the sofa as they both turned to watch Owen's approach.

The medic reached the top of the stairs, giving his own wry smile as he realised they were looking at him expectantly.

"Anything?" Jack asked.

"Lots," Owen replied. He shoved aside some of the detritus on the coffee table in front of them and sat down on the edge. When he spoke, his tone was hushed, suggesting Rhys was still asleep on the steps close by. "Outwardly she's no different, and I doubt that'll change for a while, but internally I'm finally seeing improvement. Both her heart rate and her blood pressure are down; not by enough, but they're getting there. She's on oxygen but I haven't had to intubate her, so her lungs are stabilising as well. She has got a particularly high fever, though that will be due to the viruses and to be expected."

Ianto relaxed further into the sofa cushions, his tense poise eased by Owen's news. Without knowing what the new virus would do to the old, it had been impossible to predict how long it would take for changes to start showing. Ianto silently thanked whichever deity was listening that it seemed to have taken hold before Gwen had deteriorated any further.

Beside him Jack nodded along with Owen's words. "Okay," he said. "That sounds promising. Is it?"

The doctor spread the empty fingers of his one good hand. "I'd allow for a little optimism," he told the Captain. "Basically things look to be swinging in her favour, but I have no way of knowing quite how far this new virus will go. I'm going to keep her sedated as long as I safely can to give her body time to adjust to what's happening to it, which means for the next six hours or so there'll be nothing for you to see or do for her here." He turned a sharp glare on Ianto, who was in the middle of tiredly rubbing his eyes. "So I suggest you go get some proper sleep."

"I've just been sleeping," Ianto protested.

"An hour or so napping is not enough. I know you've not had a full night for days now and it's starting to show."

Ianto narrowed his eyes at Owen, hating the idea that he looked as worn down as he felt. In truth he was suffering the strain of the last few days, both physically and mentally, but he refused to put himself ahead of any of the others.

"Are you going to suggest that to Tosh as well?" he asked bitterly.

"As far as I'm aware Tosh is still out for the count, so I hardly need to, do I?"

"And Rhys?"

Owen snorted a laugh. "Yeah right, I rather like my head attached to my body thanks."

Jack's hand slid from the back of the sofa to Ianto's shoulder once again. "He's right, you should probably take the chance to go home for a bit."

"Mm," Ianto said, unimpressed. "And will you rest too?"

The immortal's wrist strap began beeping, just as the bank of monitors on Tosh's workstation burst into life, and they all straightened, peering over at the warning flashing across the screens.

"Weevils again," Owen read first, sounding relieved that it was nothing more serious.

Ianto scowled at the device wrapped around his lover's wrist. "Are you pressing that button again?"

"What button?" Jack asked, levering himself upright and heading off towards his office.

"Never mind." Ianto got to his feet as well, rubbing his hands over his face and stifling a yawn.

Owen eyed him suspiciously. "Where are you going?"

"With Jack," he replied, immediately regretting his honesty as one of Owen's eyebrows began to creep upwards. "To get a lift home?" he added warily, offering an innocent smile he doubted he was entirely pulling off.

Jack had returned by then, coat draped over one arm whilst he loaded his Webley. "I'll make sure he gets some rest," he told Owen, sweeping by with determined steps. "You concentrate on Gwen."

Ianto gave Owen another weak smile and grabbed his jacket from the back of Tosh's chair, hurrying after the Captain before Owen could protest any further.